Masked Feelings
by LadyAriaa
Summary: NegaLaunchpad has always been a loyal follower, but he has his limits and Negaduck is about to find out what happens when he is pushed past them. As it turns out, Negaduck's secrets weren't as well hidden as he thought.


The sweltering heat of the sun beating against his face seemed to mimic the frustrating weight burning in Launchpad's chest. It pierced straight through his flesh and scorched his soul leaving behind a melted mess of emotion that he was unsure how to cope with.

Launchpad snarled around the cigar clenched between his teeth, throwing his fist through the window of the abandoned store beside him just for the satisfaction of feeling it shatter beneath his skin. He huffed slightly at the resulting gashes in his flesh, staring down at his now bloodstained knuckles and picking glass from the wounds as the throb of the fresh slices brought the maddening memories flooding back once again.

It had started like any one of their million other trysts. Negaduck had been running his mouth to get a rise out of him just like he always did, Launchpad had retaliated just like he always did, and it ended with them on the floor, at each other's throats just like it always did. Only it didn't _really_ end like it always did.

Launchpad growled furiously, sliding down the side of the building he had been leaning on as he fisted his fingers angrily into his hair. "Gaaaaah! Whadya do to me, fucker?!" he yelled.

It was a stupid question. Negaduck hadn't really done anything to him besides stir up a preexisting urge, but placing all the blame on him made Launchpad feel at least marginally better.

Launchpad's heart pounded at the flashback that was provoked. He moaned gutturally at the image of Negaduck pinned beneath him, eye blackened and teeth bloodied with such a look of euphoria on his face. The way the smaller man had suddenly clung to his arms and thrust against him was enough to bring a fire to Launchpad's groin presently just as it had during that moment. He couldn't help but grin at the idea that he could make the mighty Negaduck squirm beneath him in such a way, but the smirk quickly faltered at the crushing reality of the retreat that had followed that confusing altercation.

Having Negaduck run from him without any semblance of an explanation was frustrating to say the least, but still, he couldn't keep the tantalizing flashes of Negaduck forced into such a compromising position from taunting his brain and pulling a heavy groan free from behind clenched teeth as the images became progressively more lewd. Launchpad cocked a brow at his own hand that had somehow made it to his crotch without him even noticing, fuming silently at the fingers that had been lazily stroking him through his pants as he reminisced. The subversive appendage immediately revived his fury at being forced to stay behind and babysit the Negaverse yet again while Negaduck got to have all the fun.

Launchpad lifted himself to his feet with a newfound defiance. "I'll show you fun, ya little shit," he said, self-satisfied smirk getting comfortable on his face once again as he stormed towards the nearby bakery.

The inside of the dilapidated confectionary shop smelled of an alluring mix of dust and the faint fragrance of dried blood. Iron mingled with ashen earth: it was so much like the scent of Negaduck that Launchpad just had to stop and breathe it in deeply for a moment before making his way to the back of the store. Somewhere in his subconscious he could hear his leader ordering him to stay put, but Launchpad was beyond caring. In fact, he wanted Negaduck to be pissed at him. Every thought of his greatest obsession burned in his chest and spurred him on, urging him to state the desperate desire that had been growing inside him ever since he had met the other man. He had to know. He had to know that Negaduck felt the same thing.

Launchpad was fed up with pining over something he couldn't have, and he was determined to either pound Negaduck or pound his ass before the day was done. Even as he peered into the strange, swirling depths of the portal between worlds his uncertainty was not enough to sway his determination or keep him from making that leap. The journey was short and jarring and left Launchpad's head reeling with the newness of the experience, but his shaky legs managed to carry him out of the shop and into the overly bright sun. He sneered in repulsion at the sight of the entirely too pristine city, already missing the thick smog and vile residents of his own St. Canard.

Launchpad cracked his knuckles despite the pain in his right hand, making his way further into the city to begin his search. "Better make this worth my while Negs," he growled. "Yer ass is _mine_."

Part of Launchpad even wished that the weight of the words might be enough to breach the vastness of the city so Negaduck could hear exactly what he was feeling, but they were hardly words that the currently fuming mallard would have been pleased to hear.

Negaduck scowled, eyebrows furrowed as he stared deep into the reflection of an old, cracked mirror. A feathered hand barely grazed the black and blue bruise that was currently growing around his eye while he snarled at the sight. Staring past the dust and grime that had gathered on the mirror had been easy, but Negaduck wasn't sure if he really wanted to at that particular moment. Hell, he wasn't even sure what prompted him to busy his time with the damn thing anyway, but his eye had been bothering him, and the more he looked at it, the more a deep feeling of... something, twisted within the pits of his stomach. It left him feeling utterly sick as he yearned for whatever it was that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Liquidator had insisted he kept the ice pack that had been given to him on his eye to prevent further swelling, but Negaduck didn't want to listen; he was too busy fuming over the guy who had given him the black eye in the first place, calling him whatever rude and crude names he could think of as he rolled them off his tongue. The name of this adversary never slipped from his mouth though, so this mystery man was left a shroud to his crew: a random passerby that just so happened to hook the mallard in the eye with precision and force.

Damn him. Damn him to hell and back, Negaduck could find himself thinking as he covered his eye with his entire palm as if to hide it from his sight. It wasn't supposed to end like that, not in the way it did. The noise had escaped, the look of euphoria had come from the left field, and his mind had fogged on the drug that is his favorite pain as he laid there on the floor, being smothered by the much larger bird above him.

That's how it always went, but the way it ended that time left Negaduck with a rock in his stomach. He swore he could still see the stars that had spun in his vision when that huge fist had connected with his face, that he could still feel the wave of pleasure that rocketed down his spine when Launchpad had pinned him, pressing his weight against him as if to crush him into the floor. He could even still smell Launchpad's musky scent as if he were in the room with him right now.

Negaduck pushed the mirror from its place with a growl causing it to crash to the floor with a loud bang, shattering pieces of glass around the dirty floor of the abandoned warehouse with malicious intent to cut skin, but Negaduck didn't care. What he did care about was why his mind would not rest on what had happened that night. He had done so good hiding behind pain, and he had never accidentally rolled his hips like that. Never lost that much composure.

His own hasty departure still burned in his mind, but Negaduck had brushed it off, cursed Launchpad one last time, and then retreated back to the safety of this universe. Still, he couldn't help but focus on that face Launchpad had made that night. It was a mixture of something. To Negaduck's eyes it looked like something between shock and disgust, and that in turn disgusted him. Could he say that it hurt him? Could he truly be honest with himself and say that night had left a twist in his heart where he hadn't ever felt one before?

No, that would be surrendering to the fact that he had a heart that actually cared about someone. That one nauseating word would never leave his lips, and he swallowed whatever it might have been down as he turned on his heel, away from the small enclosure of boxes.

"Fucking asshole, gives me agita just thinking about him." Negaduck hissed to himself as he made to brush the encounter off like it was nothing.

He had shit to do.

* * *

Launchpad had been wandering the city for what felt like hours and he was growing increasingly agitated as his search stretched on with no results. He certainly couldn't claim any love for this version of St. Canard, but he had to admit there was something rather satisfying about damaging it as he wandered the streets. The only thing that eased his frustration was snarling at the city's residents and leaving a trail of broken trashcans and uprooted flowers as he went.

Launchpad's aimless wandering soon found him at a small park. His bill curled in repulsion at the scent of fresh grass and fragrant plants that wafted towards him, but he smiled nonetheless at the opportunity that had just presented itself. If he had to waste so much time searching for Negaduck he could at least have some fun while he was at it.

Within a matter of moments he had managed to scare or offend just about every occupant out of the square leaving him free run of the annoyingly green space. The pleased smirk slipped from his face when a glance at his still bloodied hand brought the thoughts of Negaduck back with a vengeance. Furious fingers latched blindly onto a nearby rose, the faint pain of the thorns slicing into his hand somehow vaguely satisfying when combined with the distant thoughts of his favorite fowl-mouthed mallard.

Launchpad scoffed at the thought. "This is all your fault asshole," he muttered to himself, ripping the entire rose bush from the ground with a practiced ease.

"Hey, stop that!"

A shocked brow lifted at the obviously angry, yet notably pathetic, order as Launchpad turned to face the source of the voice. He eyed the mutant in front of him with a mix of surprise and amusement, swayed from his thoughts of Negaduck for the first time all day buy the strangely alluring mix of plant and duck in front of him.

Launchpad knew that face, but the tint of the other man's skin, the hue of his hair and the adorable concoction of anger and fear on his face were all an entirely new experience altogether.

Launchpad's confusion morphed into a satisfied smirk. 'Jackpot,' he thought to himself.

"Umm… if-if you don't mind," Bushroot stammered meekly when his impulsive outburst only seemed to amuse the mystery man.

Bushroot was suddenly very intimidated by Launchpad's impressive bulk and gruff mannerisms. He was starting to think it was a bad day to be late for one of Negaduck's heists.

Launchpad snorted in amusement at the sudden change in attitude, finally dropping the offended rosebush as he advanced upon the cringing mutant. "Wow, yer _way_ more adorable than our Bushroot," he chuckled.

"I, uh… w-who are you?" Bushroot questioned, backing away as Launchpad trudged closer.

Launchpad answered with a toothy grin that only served to make Bushroot even more uneasy.

"J-just stay back!" Bushroot squeaked, calling forth a nearby tree to come to his aid as he grew more confused and unsettled by the other man's strange attitude.

" _Woah_ , cool it, cutie," Launchpad said, pressing his still slightly bloodied hand against the tree in a request for it to stop while he addressed the plant-duck. "Sorry 'bout your posy there. Jus blowin' off some steam, ya know?"

Bushroot eyed him cautiously, but motioned for the oak to back off nonetheless. "What do you want?" he asked suspiciously.

"Negaduck," Launchpad growled deeply.

Bushroot was stunned by the retort. He suddenly realized why the pelican looked so familiar: this was Negaduck's Launchpad. "You're Launchpad," he said, swallowing roughly as the taller man finally came to a stop a few inches in front of him.

Launchpad grinned at the soft sound of Bushroot's fear catching in his throat, undeniably turned on by the audible trepidation. "Guilty as charged," he said, leaning down to press his bill close to Bushroot's. "Now, take me t' Negs, pretty boy."

"Wh-why should I?"

"Cause I'll make it worth yer while."


End file.
